Bartender
by jumbyxjenkins
Summary: Yamcha goes to a bar with his teammates and ends up spending the night talking to the bartender, which ends up being one of the best decisions he ever made. (Yamcha/OC) (Explicit Language & Smut)
1. Just Want Your Company

NOTES:: Hey, this is just a quickly written, short little thing I wrote. Honestly, the first thing I ever finished. It's not an original concept or anything groundbreaking, but there isn't enough Yamcha love, you know? Just let the boy be happy!

* * *

The smell of sweat and tobacco that seems to be ingrained in the locker room always seems to attack Yamcha's sense of smell every single time he enters. _You'd think I'd be used to that by now._ The sound of laughter and banter mixes with the sound of moist uniforms hitting the tile, and someone claps a hand on his shoulder, "Good game, man."

"Yeah, thanks, you too." He replies, not even really acknowledging which teammate it was. He falls into the familiar routine of stripping, showering and changing into fresh clothing on basically autopilot. Thinking back to the good days...Martial arts tournaments...training all hours of the day; pushing his body to the edge... _Hell, even when we were fighting for our lives, it was still sorta fun...It was me...and my friends...saving the world._ He buttons his way up his chest as he sits on one of the benches across from a group of his teammates. His sorta-friends. _Can I really_ just _play baseball?_ He slides one shoe on, and then the other. _Not like I have a choice. Fighting doesn't really pay the bills, and even so...the others are so far ahead of me... And they have wives...families..._ real _lives._

He is interrupted from his thoughts by an outfielder, "Hey Yamcha. I don't know why I'm bothering to ask, but you are welcome to come have a drink with us."

Yamcha looks up at them; the group of four smiling faces, doubtfully awaiting his response. They always offer. Because they are _good_ guys. But he always says no, because what would he even do? _But then again..._ His mind flashes to his planned night which consists of having beer and leftover pizza on his worn out couch as he watches sitcom reruns with Puar. _I guess I could at least_ try. _Maybe it will help with this rut._ "You know what? Yeah I am in...where are we headed?"

The shocked grins on their faces are priceless, but they recover pretty quickly. "There's a little bar a couple blocks away from here. Drinks are cheap, and there is a little dancefloor that always at least a couple girls on it." Yamcha smirks as he stands and follows them out. _They may have said drinking...but what they really wanna do is troll for women to take home. Not that I blame them, a couple years ago, I woulda been doing the same exact thing._ He follows behind them as they walk down the street, chiming into their conversation about the last game. He was older than them. He was over fifty now...He was the oldest guy in the league. I mean, he was still in excellent shape, and he looked younger than he was... _But I'm getting way too old to be a playboy._

He looks up at the sign as they enter the plain looking building. "Pete's Bar & Club" is written in bright, neon red lighting, and stepping through the door, he got this _feeling._ Like a tiny flare up of _Someone's_ power level, but just for a second as he stepped through the door, and then it was gone. _Did someone sense me coming and get worried?_ He glanced around the bar, taking note of several patrons drinking and eating bar food at tables, the group of girls dancing in the the back corner, and his friends' backs as they headed straight for them, and the three people sitting at the bar. Nobody seemed to stand out. Nobody seemed dangerous. _Maybe I am just losing it._

He moved to sit at a highstool at the bar, sitting with his back to the bartop and looking over at his friends flirting up a storm with some girls on the dance floor. He chuckles before sighing and shaking his head. _Why did I do this?_

At that moment, he senses a presence to his right, and a woman's voice in his ear just after, "Regretting your decision?" He smirks, hearing the smile in her voice. Then he chuckles to himself,

"Which one?" He jokes.

To his surprise he hears a light chuckle, "I was referring to the decision to come out with your friends. I see them here a lot, but you are new...But I mean, if you wanna tell me about all your regrets, feel free. I am a bartender after all... It's kinda the job." He spins in his stool to look at her, and for a moment, he was a teenager again, looking at a pretty girl and losing all capability of coherent thought, much less speech. She was absolutely _gorgeous._ Dark brown eyes, defined but delicate features, and thick black hair pulled back into a high ponytail, a few bunches of it still framing her face. _This girl should be a model, not a bartender._ She arches an eyebrow and gives him a lopsided grin, "Want me to get you a drink while you tell me your tale of woe?"

He swallows hard, trying to remember how to use words, "Yeah, a beer would be great."

"What kind?"

"Whatever you recommend." He watches her as she moves behind the bar. As she reaches up to grab a glass, he looks over her figure. _Definitely should have been a model._ She has a simple black teeshirt. Tight black pants, and a red sash wrapped around her waist and hanging on her hips. The little strings on its edges swishing as she moves. _Like those jingly things the belly dancers wear...Never actually seen someone just wear one._

She returns with a glass and places it on a coaster in front of him, "I'll start you a tab...?" She drags out the last word,

"Yamcha." He responds, taking a sip of the beer and trying not to get too much of the head on his lip and look like a total dumbass. _It_ is _really good._

"Good to meet you Yamcha. My name is Rhuebel. Most people just call me Rhuby." She glances at the other patrons at the bar to make sure she isn't needed before leaning onto the bartop, her arms inadvertently pressing her breasts forward. They are on the smaller side, but still nice. Yamcha tries not to look. He succeeds. Mostly. He may have _glanced._ "So, what's on your mind, Yamcha. You look like you could use someone to listen."

He shrugs, "Nothing to say really...just life, you know?"

She animatedly drops her jaw, "Oh come on. I have several more hours 'til close, we don't get too many new faces, and I have already heard all the interesting stories from the regulars. I am not just playing the role of bartender who listens to problems. I am _genuinely_ curious."

He smiles, taking a large drink of his beer. _Oh, what the hell. Why not?_ "Alright. I have had the same group of friends since I was a teenager. Except they all grew up and got married and had kids. And I'm...I don't know...I guess I am a bit _jealous._ "

She stares at him quizzically for a moment, "Why didn't you do it?"

He holds his head up in his left hand with his elbow on the bartop. His right holding onto the cold glass. _May as well get it all out, right?_ "Well, I had this girl. Bulma. We met as teenagers, and we were together for the better part of a decade. We had issues. We fought a lot... We would take a break, I would get my fill of being a playboy with other women, and then she would take me back." He takes a drink and sighs, "I wasn't a great boyfriend. I wanted to sleep around sometimes, and I always counted on the fact that she would be there when I was done. It shouldn't have surprised me when I came back one day and she had feelings for someone else."

"So she moved on, and you kept whoring?"

He snorts a laugh, "Yeah. Pretty much. She's still one of my best friends. Married. Two kids. I had a couple of short relationships after that, but nothing was serious. Nothing felt right. So I kept trying. Girl after girl. I liked the attention." He downs the rest of his beer. "Stopped a few years back when I realized it wasn't what I really wanted. Except, now, I am over fifty and it's too late."

She smirks, taking his empty glass, turning to give him a refill while talking, "Because all the girls worth marrying know that you aren't single at fifty with _that_ face and _that_ body without a good reason?"

Yamcha was glad her back was to him as she refilled from the tap, otherwise she would have seen a rather embarrassing blush at hearing someone like _her_ say something like _that_ about _him._ It's been a while. "Yeah. Interest in me now runs out after one night... And I mean, I don't wanna marry a girl just to do it. I wanna marry someone I love...and I feel like I missed that chance."

She returns with another beer and places it in front of him with a soft smile, "I feel for ya, man. I do. But you gotta admit that it's a prison of your own design. Good wholesome women don't wanna date someone that they _know_ will probably cheat on them. Maybe you should look for another reforming whore... or maybe single moms?"

Despite her truthful, but hurtful, words, Yamcha finds himself laughing, "Yeah, cause I am such a great role model for small children. I'm a martial artist who plays baseball cause it's the only thing I am good at that makes money."

She laughs with him, "Yeah, most moms here aren't really fond of fighting. I don't get it. I have been fighting since I was born." She tilts her head at him thoughtfully, "Just be glad you have baseball and don't have to bartend to pay the bills so you can train another day."

He leans forward, grinning, "You are a martial artist?"

"Oh don't tell me you are one of the 'girls can't fight' crowd, I was just starting to like you!"

He puts his hands up, "No, no, I was just surprised! Don't find too many others out in the world, and even rarer to find a strong woman."

"Yeah. Nobody cares about strength here. Especially in the city. Half the time, I don't even know how to talk to people. It's hard to explain to normal people that sometimes you actually _enjoy_ getting hit in the face." She speaks while washing out some glasses.

"I know, right!" He giggles, "And how satisfying it is to feel someone's flesh bend around your fist!"

"Even better when you can feel the bones crunch." She smiles.

He sighs, "Oh man, I miss it so much. Baseball is great and all, but it's just not..."

"Yeah I know." She replies over her shoulder, pouring a shot of whiskey for a silent patron further down the bar, "I miss it too. I train. I have fun...but nothing can replace-"

"-A good fight" They speak together and then laugh together.

Yamcha downs the rest of his beer and slides her the empty glass, "Hell, at this point, I'd settle for a decent sparring partner."

She takes the glass and turns back around to the tap, "Same. I haven't had fun punching another living person since I moved here a few years back."

Maybe it's the beers, or maybe it's the fact that he hasn't been this excited about a conversation with someone outside the Earth's defenders in maybe forever, but he speaks before he fully thinks it through, "You wanna fight _me_?"

She looks at him with an amused smirk and a cocked brow as she hands him another beer, "That a challenge, Yamcha?"

Suddenly bursting with a cocky confidence he thought he left behind years ago, "So what if I am?" he flirts.

For a moment she narrows her eyes and grits her teeth slightly, "If you are proposing a relationship beyond bartender and customer, there are some things I have to say." Yamcha's breathe catches in his throat. _Fuck, I pushed a limit. Dammit! We were getting along so well!_ "First, I don't date. Anyone. Ever. Not anything personal, I just don't...need that. Second, I make a terrible friend. I suck at emotions and I never like to go anywhere or do anything. I am either working or boring." He stares at her, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. _Was I really just imagining that we had some sort of connection? I thought we could at least be friends!_

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" He starts, but she puts up a finger, stopping him in his place.

"I wasn't done..." She smiles softly, "So, as long as you aren't trying to get in my pants, and you are okay with a hermit for a friend, then I accept your challenge."

He lets out a breathy chuckle, "Really? Great!" He nervously runs his hand through his hair, "I mean, I don't have a lot of friends, and I am pretty boring too. This is the first time I have been out in ages."

He watches her eyes glance over to his friends who are currently buying themselves and several girls drinks from the other bartender at the end of the bar. As his eyes meet theirs, they gently wave to him. "They are your teammates, right? Baseball?"

"Yeah. They are pretty nice guys. Even though I never say yes, they always invite me out with them anyways."

"But baseball is all you have in common with them?"

"Yeah. Basically. But I do _really_ like baseball." He ruffles his hair again, letting the long strands spread out along his back as they continue to dry, "Even if it isn't as much fun now that it is my job and not just a hobby."

"I've seen parts of a few games on TV, but never really paid much attention. Maybe I just don't get it."

He's momentarily stunned, "So, you've never been to a baseball game?"

She laughs at the look on his face, "What, is it some vital rite of passage that I should have?"

"Yes!" He exclaims, "Everyone has to go to a baseball game at _some_ point." He snaps his fingers, "There is an early game tomorrow, should be over well before the bar opens. I can get you a ticket if you want."

She waves her hands around, "Why would I want to go sit in the stands alone, watching a guy I just met, play a game I don't even understand?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant." He laughs, " _I'm_ not playing. It's two other teams. I'd go with you just like any other fan, and make sure you get the full _experience._ My treat."

She shakes her head, but keeps the smile on her face, "I _just_ agreed to be your friend as long as you know that I am not the type of person who _goes_ places and _does_ things, but what is the first thing you do? You ask me to _go_ somewhere and _do_ something."

"It'll be fun! I promise! And if you _don't_ have fun, I will let you land a few extra hits on me when we get around to our fight."

"You'll _let_ me get a few hits on you?" She scoffs, "Awful confident, aren't we?"

"I'm not doubting _you._ I just know that I am _good._ "

"Alright then, tough guy. I'll go to the game with you, but we fight _tonight._ I gotta make sure you are even worth the time I am investing in this potential friendship with sparring."

"You're on!" Yamcha yells, a little louder than he intended, but she seems to be encouraged, "Just say where and what time, and I'll be there."

She smirks, before walking to the other end of the bar to talk to the other bartender. A larger man with a lumberjack beard and a biker bandana on his head, "Hey Pete, is it cool if I leave a few hours early? This guy over here challenged me to a fight and I gotta go kick his ass."

"Rhuby, you ask for one night off a month, of course you can leave a few hours early. Go have fun." The large man smiles down at her and she hugs him from behind. She turns back to Yamcha,

"Pay your tab with Pete while I go get my shit from the back." She says as she hops over the side of the bar in a swift, graceful leap and disappears through a door. Yamcha chugs the rest of his beer before a daunting feeling falls over him. _Right now. This is happening_ right now. _What if I am not sober enough to hold back enough?_ He stands up and the world only sways a little bit. _I just have to be really careful not to hurt her. I can't sense any power from her, but she seems so sure of herself..._ He walks over to Pete and pays his tab, adding a generous tip for Rhuby.

As he walks over to his friends they look from him to the empty spot behind the bar where Rhuby was standing. Barry, the second baseman looks at him incredulously, "Wait, did you actually get Rhuby to agree to leave with you?"

Yamcha runs his hand through his hair anxiously, "Yes? But not in the way you think. We both like martial arts, we are gonna go spar a bit."

He laughs and claps him on the shoulder, "Be careful man, she is tougher than she looks. Remember Dan from the Sounds?" Yamcha nods, "She was the reason his cheek was broken and his jaw was wired shut for eight months."

"Really?" Yamcha asks, "What happened?"

"He came in almost every day asking her out. Apparently one day she said something along the lines of 'If you really wanna date me, you have to pass a test first.' So of course, he said to give him the test, and then she punched the shit out of him. Said something about how she wouldn't be caught dead with someone who couldn't even take a punch." Barry shrugs, "I think everyone knows by now not to try anything with her. She says she doesn't date, and we have been coming here for like, a year now, and she is always here, so it's gotta be true."

"Yeah, she mentioned the not dating thing to me. I respect that. She is just fun to talk to, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah," He shrugs, "Just don't let her hurt you too bad, we have that big game against the Jays in three days, and we need you."

Yamcha smirks as he sees Rhuby coming out of the back room with a satchel over her shoulder. Barry gives a nod and a wave and slinks back into the cluster of dancers. Rhuby comes up to stand by Yamcha, "You ready to get your ass handed to you?"

He smiles smugly as they walk out the door, "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

The sound of her laughter almost echoes with their footsteps as they walk side by side down the street. "My, my. You _are_ confident, I'll give you that."

"So where are we heading?" He asks, looking down at her. She is shorter than him, but taller than Bulma. She is probably about Vegeta's height actually. Minus the hair.

"There is a park a couple blocks this way, pretty close to my place. Pretty spacious. Will be empty since it is so late."

"Do you go there often?"

"Nope, just pass by it on my walk to work." She walks beside him, and her hair sways as she walks, tickling the back of his arm on every other step they take. He can faintly smell vanilla in her hair, and also a bit of alcohol.

"You work everyday?"

"Yeah. I'll take a day every once in a while, but working gives me something to do...and food is expensive." He glances over with a disbelieving grin, _Nobody could spend_ that _much on food...Well, except maybe Goku..._

She looks up at him and shrugs, "I may not look it, but I eat...like, _a lot._ Usually freaks people out. One of a million reasons I don't date."

He shakes his head, "Wait, they are actually rude enough to comment on how much you _eat?_ "

She nods slowly, "Yeah, can't get through a meal without some snide comment on where I am putting it. Which makes me want to punch the guy, so on the rare occasion I _do_ go out with a friend or something, I just order however much they order, and just stay a little hungry 'til I get home. Which...also makes me want to punch somebody." She chuckles, and Yamcha resists the urge to throw his arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

"Well, don't do that around me, alright? I don't want you to be hungry whenever we have a meal together. I promise I won't say anything that would hurt your feelings..." He laughs, "Tomorrow, I promise to buy you all the hotdogs and nachos your heart desires...It'll be nice to be out with a girl who actually _eats_ something. I always feel like a slob shoving food into my mouth while the girl ' _just wants water, please'._ "

She laughs, "Yeah, that's not me." She smirks up at him, "But you are still so sure that you aren't gonna disappoint me in this fight?" Before he could reply, she is turning into a break in a fence beside them, and he follows her inside, looking at the large open area and realizing they are on a small baseball field. How ironic. He turns back to look at her, grinning wildly and throwing her satchel on the ground before walking to the middle of the field. He follows a few paces behind her, and she turns to face him again with a focused but amused face. "Well, Yamcha...Show me whatcha got."

He hesitates. _I can't throw the first punch. If I hold back too much, and she_ is _as strong as she says she is, she is going to be pissed at me, but if I don't hold back enough, I could really hurt her._ He scratches his head nervously, _That, and I am still a little drunk, my response time isn't in the best shape right now._ "Uh, how about ladies first?"

She shrugs, "Ugh, fine." And Yamcha falls back into a defensive stance, keeping his eyes on her as she steps into one too...Not one he has seen before, Her arms and legs are still close to her core, but her knees are bent, and her right foot in the front has the toe of her sneaker just barely touching the ground. By the time he realized it wasn't a defensive stance, but a preparation for a pounce, she was already lunging towards him, and _fast,_ too. His eyes could barely see her as she came towards him with a look of amused determination, he could sense her though, so when she came at his face with a swift right jab he was able to grab her fist in his left palm. _Damn, was that stronger than he expected._ He noticed the flash of shock on her face, before it was replaced with a _bright_ grin.

Then, as if a dam broke, she came at him for real. A flurry of punches coming from the smiling woman. With each punch he blocked, the next one would be faster and harder, and he _really was_ rusty, because he was starting to wonder how long he could maintain this pace of blocking and dodging. Then suddenly, she disappeared. Her form. Her energy, all of it.

When she popped up again right behind him, with a flare of power from her body right against his back, he acted without thinking. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was a flashback to the last time someone snuck up behind him and he _died._ Or maybe it was just the beers limiting his ability to think before he acts, but he spun around with a mighty heel kick. Right to her jaw. Full power. And she staggered back, clutching her jaw in her right hand and he realized what _exactly_ he had just done.

"Oh _fuck!_ I am so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you that hard! You surprised me, and I am still a little drunk and I-" He is advancing on her with his hands up in surrender as he stammers out apologies and expletives. When he gets to her, she spits a thick glob of bloody saliva on the ground next to her and Yamcha is just overwhelmed with guilt and fear and-

And then she looks up at him with one of the most _vibrant_ joyful smiles he has seen on anyone as she drags her tongue across the busted spot on her lower lip, and the other emotions fade just enough to make way for confusion. "Do you have any idea how long it has been since anyone was able to hit me like that? To make me _bleed?_ "

He begins to stutter again, "I am _so_ sorry. I really didn't mean-"

She begins to laugh as she places her right pointer finger on his lips mid-ramble, "Yamcha. Shut up. I am _glad._ It's the most alive I have felt in years." She drops her hand and his lips slowly drift up into a smile and he feels the heat in his cheeks and he can't tell if it is a blush or not.

"Really? I-"

She interrupts him with a wicked grin, "So it's only fair that I return the courtesy." Before he can fully process that sentence in his drunken mind, he sees her right foot coming from behind her with truly _impressive_ speed and flexibility to make a hard hit to his left temple. His vision goes dark for just a moment, and he can feel his mind reeling from the blow. And yeah... _it's kinda nice._

He doesn't realize he is laying on the ground, smiling like a maniac until he hears her laughing, and he looks up at her outstretched hand. "Sorry, I shoulda given you more warning. That was sorta a dick move. I thought you would dodge it, actually. But I guess your reflexes are a bit hindered by all the booze I was feeding you all night." He puts his hand in hers and she pulls him to his feet.

"Yeah, sorry. Next time we will make sure I am sober." He chuckles nervously, removing his hand from hers, "Assuming there is a next time."

She smiles and cocks her head towards the entrance where her satchel is, "If you want to. I had fun. Didn't you?"

"Yeah!" He exclaims, "I'd love to do it again." As she bends over to pick up her satchel, he continues, "I guess you decided I am up to your standards?"

She shakes her head, "You are worth a shot. I gotta try you out sober... And when you aren't holding back so much."

He tilts his head, _she could tell_? Then he thinks back to what he felt right before he kicked her. The wave of power just behind his back. _She had the chance to hit me...She was just seeing if I could sense her there. She was testing me._ Realization struck, _She was the power I felt in the bar when I first walked in!_ _Holy shit._ "Me?" He responds as they exit the park, "What about you? I couldn't sense you until your little flare up behind my back, so I know you were holding back too."

"I was wondering if you felt that or if you just got lucky." She speaks as they continue down the street. _I guess I am walking her home. It's a wonder she trusts me enough to let me see where she lives._ "I knew you had potential when you walked into the bar, but the power I felt in you then was nothing like what was in that kick. You suppress it like I do...don't you?"

"Yeah. But I can't push it down as far as you apparently can. I could barely feel you except for when I first walked into the bar, and when you were right behind me."

"Years of practice. I survived by being invisible." She looks up to him, "I can teach you, if you want."

"Heh, Yeah! That'd be great. I love learning new skills and techniques. It's been a while since I learned anything new." He looks down at her, "I am sure you have a lot more tricks up your sleeve. Maybe we can teach each other more techniques too?"

"That sounds fun. Like the start of a great friendship!" She skips forward, throwing her arms up in the air as she walks backwards in front of him,

"So, that means you are coming with me to the game tomorrow, right?"

"Ugh, yeah. I guess so." She turns around as they approach a little house on the corner. It's small and quaint, and she steps up a few of the stairs to the door. "This is me."

He smiles, "I like it. How about I pick you up around ten? Wear something comfortable."

"What about team colors? Who are we cheering for?"

He frowns, "I don't know. I didn't think about that. I always just wear yellow and red for the Taitans no matter who I am seeing."

She laughs, "I guess I'll either support your team or stick with neutrals."

He grins devilishly, "Are you gonna get one of those jerseys with my name on the back?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself. We have to see if I even like _this_ game before we entertain the idea of me coming to cheer for you."

He laughs, "So you're saying there's a chance?"

"Small one."

"That's enough." He glances around, making sure he knows how to find this place again and how to get to his house from here. "Well, it was great to meet you Rhuby, and I will see you at ten tomorrow?"

She nods, scaling the last few stairs to her door and taking out her keys from her satchel, "It was good to meet you too, Yamcha. See you then."

He watches her enter her house and close the door behind her. The soft glow of the lights starting to shine through the window as he walks back down the streets the way he came. He raises his hand to his head and hisses as he notices the swelling there. _That's gonna leave a nasty bump...Oh well I guess I deserved it for busting her lip._ He smiles up at the night sky and the brightness of the half moon. _Puar is not gonna believe this night._

* * *

Rhuby flicks on the lights and tosses her satchel to the ground before removing her sash and leaning against the front door to close it. Sighing, the tip of her tail flicks the bolt on the door, and she relishes in the feeling of flexing it for the first time all day as she slides down the door to settle on the floor. "What the hell am I thinking?" She sighs into her hands as her tail wiggles beside her on the linoleum. She remembers Pete's words of wisdom when she first got to this planet.

" _You're a Saiyan, and you are here looking for another Saiyan?" The large bearded man says slowly, and she nods. "Yeah, that's a bad plan."_

" _Why? What do you mean?"_

" _I dunno about any guy named Kakarot, but several years back a couple Saiyans showed up, killed a buncha people, took a team of the world's best martial artists to take 'em down. The media covered it up as a hoax, but people still remember. You start walking around, waving your tail about and asking around for your long lost Saiyan cousin or whatever, and you are probably gonna get killed, or at least attacked."_

" _So you are saying there is no good way to find him? Not without putting myself and others in danger."_

" _Nope. If your Saiyan friend_ is _still hanging around on our little planet, I am sure he is using another name and hiding his tail, and probably isn't going to just come right out and let you find him."_

" _Well fuck."_

" _I'd be careful about everyone else too. People see your tail and they are gonna freak out whether they remember the Saiyan incident or not. People aren't exactly accepting of things that are different, and I don't wanna see you locked up in a lab because you refuse to kill innocent people."_

" _So, I should keep to myself, hide my tail, and make sure nobody ever sees it? What if I wanna get laid?"_

 _He laughs, "Then you are gonna have to figure out someway to keep it hidden. Maybe a reason you have to keep your clothes on?"_

 _She raises a brow, "Yeah, cause that's not suspicious at all."_

 _He shrugs, "Your problem, not mine...You wanna job at my bar or not?"_

" _Yeah, give me the damn job. I don't have anywhere else to go."_

She lets out a growl as she drags her fingers across her lip, still a little sore to the touch. "I thought maybe I could get a few punches in and have a little fun and I'd be done with it... I never thought..." She bites her lip, remembering the determined smile on his face as he blocked her punches, and the moment when she caught a glimpse of the warrior he really is. Just before his heel contacted with her jaw, and just before he realized what he had done and turned back into the awkward, adorable guy she had been talking to the whole night, now terrified that he had hurt her. The look in his eyes was _hot._ And now she can still smell him in her clothes...on her _skin._ He had made her bleed, and then she wanted nothing more than to just jump his bones, right there in the park. But she couldn't. She was an alien, and he was very much human, despite being _very_ strong for a human. Another shudder rolls through her, making her tail wiggle against the cold floor. And..."I wanted to see him again...I want to talk to him again. I want to _fight_ him again." She growls, "Oh _fuck,_ I think I actually _like_ him." She clenches her eyes closed and shakes her head. "No! Nope. Friends. We are just friends. I _want_ to just be friends. I can _do_ this. I will not be a slave to my urges or my feelings!"

She falls over, laying her head on the carpet as she stares up at the stucco on the ceiling. "I _can_ do this...right?"


	2. Root, Root, Root

"I'm telling you Puar, it's _not_ a date!" He yells into the house from the bathroom, checking his hair in the mirror one last time, making sure just the right amount of hair is peeking out from underneath his Taitans cap.

"You are taking a pretty girl to a baseball game, and that is the _fifth_ time you have checked your hair!"

He steps out of the bathroom, coming face to face with the accusing eyes of his floating cat best friend, "The first thing she told me was that she doesn't date. Obviously, she doesn't want it to be a date, so thinking that it is will only make it harder on me." He walks past Puar and grabs the game tickets off the counter in the main room. "I am just gonna enjoy going somewhere with a new friend who is fun to talk to, _and_ likes to fight, _and_ is willing to go to a baseball game with me. I am not going to ruin this just because of how pretty she is!"

"That sounds a little rehearsed, Yamcha. Are you sure you haven't been giving yourself that same speech in your head all morning?" Puar's mischievous jibes follow Yamcha into the main room as he is heading for the door.

"Oh shut-up Puar!" Yamcha growls, sliding the tickets into his pocket and grabbing his keys and wallet from the table next to the door. "I don't know when I'll be back, so don't burn the house down."

"Have fun on your not-date with your not-girlfriend!" Puar yells at Yamcha's retreating back as he leaves the house. Puar takes a moment to stare at the phone sitting on the countertop. "To meddle, or not to meddle." He wonders aloud to himself. "I mean, if this is Yamcha's chance at love, isn't it my duty to give them that push?" He glides closer to the phone, "Yeah. It will be great. It's the perfect plan." Puar kocks the receiver off the base and carefully dials the number for Jim, one of the cameramen at the stadium. "He'll thank me later. And if for some reason it doesn't work out, nobody can be blamed. What Yamcha doesn't know won't hurt him."

* * *

Yamcha nervously walks up the stairs to Rhuby's house and glanced down at his watch. 9:55. He is just a little early. He should knock right? _Yeah. I should knock and let her know I am here._ He raps on the door three times and waits, and a few seconds later, he hears her inside, "Hey Yamcha. It's unlocked, come on in!"

He hesitates for a moment, but opens the door and steps inside. It's arranged similar to his; a living room with attached kitchen, and then a small hallway presumably leading to the bedroom and bathroom. He glances around, looking at her place. The most prominent thing being the numerous bookshelves with books, movies and albums. He hears her moving around deeper in the house, and then there was a small crash, sounding like a bottle hitting porcelain, that told him, she was most likely in the bathroom, "Fuck!" She mutters, before speaking louder, "Sorry, just running a little late. Alarm didn't go off when I wanted it to, and now my hair isn't fucking cooperating. There are drinks in the fridge, make yourself at home!"

He listens to her, stepping into the kitchen and opening the impressively large fridge. He laughs lightly at all the food inside, _She really wasn't kidding about the appetite._ He grabs one of the cans of soda and closes the door. Taking a seat at the countertop to drink his soda and wait for her to finish up.

When she finally came down the hall, she turned to him with a smile, "Well? Is this good?"

Yamcha swallowed hard. Good? Good was an understatement. Short jean shorts that showed off just _how_ toned those legs of hers were, a simple black tank top, and that familiar red sash on her hips. But the striking thing was she was wearing a Taitans hat, with her hair pulled through the back. She looked incredible. "You look great! You even have a Taitans hat! Did you get that just for me?"

She laughs, "I have had this a while. Somebody left it at the bar, and I liked the colors so I took it. Didn't realize what it was until last night when I got to looking up your team online."

He stands up, tossing the empty can in the recycle bin, "Hell, it was probably Barry. He is always leaving his hats all over the damn place."

Then she starts to laugh, gesturing between him and herself "We match!" And he looks at himself. Plain black shirt, knee length shorts, and the same hat. They do match. _That is so cheesy._

"Yeah, we do. It's kinda cute, don't you think? Except the fact that people will think we planned it and we'll look like one of those couples that is just trying _way_ too hard."

She shrugs. "Let them think it. You promised me hotdogs and fun, and I intend to collect." She smirks, "Ready to go?"

"Of course!" He follows her as she throws her wallet and keys into a small purse and heads out the door, locking it up behind her, and they start the walk towards the stadium.

"Yeah, sorry about being late. Getting my hair through the hole in the hat was harder than I thought it would be."

He chuckles, "Yeah, the thicker the hair, the harder it is. I gave up on it a long time ago... I just leave my hair how it is and put the hat on over it. No muss no fuss."

"Yeah, my hair always gives me problems. If it's not pulled back it sticks up everywhere like it has a mind of its own. It's always been contrary."

"Aww, but it's so pretty, it can't be that bad!" He jokes, nudging her playfully with his shoulder.

"No. It's nothing but an asshole. But I hate how it looks when it is shorter. The spikeyness increases exponentially with decreasing length."

"I like my hair long too. Usually cut it off short when I get a girlfriend though. They never like it long."

She turns to him and gasps, "Those bitches!" Yamcha snorts a laugh, "Not only are they _wrong,_ but they shouldn't make you change your hair."

He scoffs, "Why not? They change everything else."

She narrows her eyes at him, "You must have terrible taste in women then. Women should love the man they have, not try to change him. That's no good way to be."

"I guess most ladies just don't like me how I am, then."

"Then fuck em!" She giggles, and skips ahead again to walk backwards and face him, "I know you wanna find a great girl and get married and all, but how about until then, you and I can just be happily single together?"

He smirks at her, "Happily single, _together?_ "

She nods, raising a brow, "Yeah! Like when you get lonely and are thinking about settling for some girl who is gonna cut your hair and try to change you, you hang out with me instead."

"Sounds great for me, but what do you get out of it?" He watches her walk backwards, somehow avoiding all the people they pass.

"Same thing. I get lonely too, ya know?"

"Why not find yourself a good guy then?" He smiles softly at her, trying not to feel a little sad at the idea of her with another guy, "I mean, you are a great girl _and_ you are gorgeous. You could have anyone you wanted." When he watches her face fall, and the torn expression in her eyes, he feels really guilty for asking.

"It's just complicated." She falls back to walking beside him, "Relationships have certain... _components_ that I can't really supply. So, it's easier to be alone." He looks at her for a moment, and how her arms are crossed across her chest, and how _small_ she looks. _If she wants me to hang out with her and be around her, then she must mean the physical parts of a relationship...But she has no problem touching me when we fight? Or when she helped me up afterwards. Maybe it's just the sex?_

"I mean, isn't that what friends are for? So you aren't as lonely and you have someone to see movies with? Fair warning though, my idea of a good time -other than fighting of course -is just drinking a beer and watching sitcom reruns on TV...usually with my best friend Puar, who is a shapeshifting cat and my housemate."

"That sounds like my good time too. But with popcorn. Gotta have popcorn when you watch TV. And no Shapeshifting cat best friend." She smiles up at him as they finally reach the stadium.

She follows Yamcha up to the turnstiles, and the man takes the tickets from him with a smile. He turns around just long enough to grab her hand and then weaves them through the crowd with practiced grace, and somewhere near the second set of stairs in the bleachers, and a particularly thick grouping of people hounding a drink salesman, he feels her other hand come up and hold his forearm. He glances back to see that she is looking around her with wonder, trusting him to lead her to where they need to go so she can just look at all the people. He is used to long, manicured fingernails but feeling the tips of her fingers, calloused from training, gently digging into his skin to keep close to him in the crowd is oddly refreshing.

He pulls them to the rows just behind the dugout, nodding at the employee standing there. These seats are hard to get, but it is his favorite place to be. Close to the action. Good view, and plenty of opportunities to catch bats and balls. He's never brought a girl here before. Was always too afraid of her not paying attention and getting hit by a stray ball he couldn't stop. But Rhuby? She was _fast._ And he got the feeling she would enjoy the chaos like he did. He gestures to two seats, "Here we are! Best seats in the house! In my opinion anyway..."

She sits down first, still looking around. "Are they expensive?" She turns to him, moving her purse to sit in her lap.

"If I couldn't use my status as a pro player to get great seats to other teams' games, then the job wouldn't even be worth it." He laughs, "These aren't the best seats for dates or newbies. Gotta pay attention here or you might get hit with a foul ball. But the energy and chaos and view here is unbeatable."

"But I am a newbie, why bring me?"

He smirks, "I fought you remember? You are way too fast to let a little ball get the drop on you. I knew you'd be able to take care of yourself. And I thought you might like the craziness of sitting here."

She laughs, "This whole thing is crazy. So many people. So many sounds and smells." She looks up at the screen, which is currently showing the kiss cam, "And look at that! Ain't that the cutest fuckin' shit!"

He laughs and nods, waving over a wandering salesman, as he comes towards them, he looks back over to her, "I was gonna get a hotdog and a soda, you want one?"

"Yeah!" She raises her voice because the music in the stadium got louder, "Sounds good thank you!" Yamcha nods and holds up two fingers to the salesman, who quickly prepares two hotdogs and passes him two sodas before heading off again. Yamcha hands Rhuby her share before noticing the stare she is giving him. "Did you just steal these?"

He laughs, sipping his drink, "Nah, I have a tab. They just take it out of my pay at the end of the month."

"More perks of being a baseball player, eh?"

"Not just any player. Top player in the league ten years running." He grins smugly.

"And yet so humble!" She giggles, taking a large bite of her hotdog and then mumbling, "This is _really_ good."

They both eat in comfortable silence for a moment before the sound of booing draws their attention up to the screen again, to two people waving their hands on the kiss cam. Rhuby eats the remainder of the dog in one bite, chasing it with soda, "They boo you for not kissing?"

Yamcha nods, unceremoniously stuffing his face and chewing quickly. "Yeah, they are vicious." He laughs, "They will probably come back to them every inning until they finally kiss."

"So, kiss or face eternal ridicule?"

"Basically. It's in the spirit of the game and all that!" He raises his soda towards her, "Here's to hoping they don't recognize me!"

She laughs, bumping her soda to his, "Here, here!"

* * *

Rhuby was taking to baseball games like a fish to water. Yamcha had explained the rules and traditions as they went, and she asked questions, and seemed genuinely interested. He watched her getting excited and joined him in teasing or cheering for the batters depending on the players. She seemed to love the short player profiles on each player that he provided for her. In between every inning she would softly dance to the background music as they snacked and watched the kiss cam with admiration.

Yamcha was thinking that this was one of the best times he had experienced at a game in years...maybe ever, when in between the fourth and fifth innings, disaster struck. They were looking at each other, not paying attention to anything else, making small talk about what bones hurt the most when they break when the stadium erupts in screams and hoots. _Someone they recognize on the kiss cam again. Poor bast-_

They look up to the screen at the same time to see themselves and their shocked expressions reflected there. As they look up the screams intensify. Now that they have acknowledged it, its too late. "Oh fuck." Yamcha mutters, trying to keep his head down so he doesn't get fined for expletives. He turns to Rhuby who has an unreadable expression on her face, "We don't have to, its cool, I-"

She smiles and cuts him off, "If they want a show, let's give them a show, I am not shy if you aren't?"

Yamcha is fairly certain his brain just short circuited, because for what felt like hours he just stares at her dumbly, like a deer in headlights, before the words finally process in his head and he manages a choked, "R-Really?" She nods and leans towards him, and his eyes flicker from her eyes to her lips, and he sees her tongue dart out across them, and that's what broke him. _Oh fuck it._

He reaches out with his right hand, grazing her cheek with his thumb as he cups the back of her neck, pulling her gently so her lips meet his. Her lips move with his and they are so soft...so warm...He just wants to...But the sound of the screams and cheers return his mind to reality. They are here as _friends._ They are on the damn _kiss cam. She is just doing what she thinks she should. She doesn't want to kiss_ me.

He starts to pull back, but he is stopped by the feeling of her hand running across his scarred cheek and into his hair as she pulls him back into the kiss forcefully, deepening the kiss, her tongue breaching the line between them to touch his within his mouth. The cheers and whoops erupt across the stadium, and the small part of his brain not focusing on the feeling of her tongue brushing against his, or the tight grip of her hand tangled in his hair, registers someone nearby yell, "Fuck yeah! Get it, Yamcha!" and he knows she heard it too, because he feels her smile against his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to pull away from the kiss and rest his forehead against hers. Her eyes are shining with her smile, and her lips are just ever so slightly swollen from their kiss, and she is just so _beautiful._ He chuckles and closes his eyes.

"What's a little on-camera make-out between friends?" She jokes, untangling her fingers from his hair and trying her best to smooth it down without removing her forehead from his.

 _Yeah. Friends. Don't make this weird, Yamcha._ "Yeah. Either way, the guys are never gonna let me forget this. _This_ was the better option though...by far."

She laughs and finally leans back, and Yamcha can finally breathe, but he isn't sure if he wanted to, "You are an excellent kisser, you know. I figured a reforming manwhore would be good, but I wasn't expecting _that._ "

He smirks, _Good. we can still joke. Everything is fine._ "You aren't so bad yourself, especially for someone who doesn't date."

She raises a brow and shakes her head, "I don't date _anymore._ Doesn't mean I didn't used to. Though it wasn't so much dating as much as it was just fucking whoever was remotely attractive."

His face was already pretty flushed from the kiss, but he _still_ felt the intense blush on his cheeks, and he had to laugh, "Dammit, don't tell me shit like that right now! My body can't take it!"

She pushes his shoulder playfully, "Oh come-on Yamcha! Don't tell me you need a cold shower from one kiss and the thought of my slutty days. You are _supposed_ to be a playboy!"

"Hey!" He pushes her back, "It was a really good kiss, and it has been a while, cut me some slack here!" The music fades down and the announcer starts the next inning, and she turns back to Yamcha,

"Come on, get your head in the game! How am I gonna know when to cheer if you are all distracted!"

He laughs, staring at the profile of her face as she watches the players retake the field with a joyful concentration that he absolutely loves to see.

* * *

They fell back into their casual banter and easy laughter up until midway through the eighth inning, when the unusually calm game reminded Yamcha why he both loves and hates these seats. A particularly fast fly ball was heading for them, more specifically, towards Rhuby, and just as he was about to lean over and catch it for her, she reaches forward and grabs it, barehanded just before he could. She holds in her hand and holds it in her hand with a smile directed at him, and then he realizes they are on the cam again, the announcers are talking, "Did she just catch that barehanded?"

"Well, did you expect anything less from Yamcha's girl?!" The other announcer yells and the crowd cheers before the camera goes back to the game. _Yamcha's girl..._ He feels himself blush again as she turns to him with a puzzled expression,

"Was I not supposed to catch it?"

He laughs, "That ball was just particularly fast. Most people would have broken their fingers. Most girls would have ducked. You just caught it like a pro."

She holds the ball out to him, "Now what do I do with it?"

He glances down to the dugout and sees Reed heading back to it and gets an idea, "Let me see it for a second?" She nods and he grabs the ball, hopping over the fence barrier and walking towards the barrier of the dugout, "Hey Reed!" He looks at Yamcha with a smirk.

"Hey man, what's up?" He walks over, leaning against the wall and looking up at Yamcha, And he hands Reed the ball,

"Sign this for me will ya? It's her first ball from her first game and It'd be a good souvenir."

He laughs, grabbing the ball and a marker from the bench, "Yeah, I saw you two on the kiss cam. How'd a guy like you get a girl like that?" He begins to scribble on the ball,

"Well, I didn't" He scratches his head through his hat, "We are here as friends, she was just following the rules."

He raises his brows incredulously, as he glances over Yamcha's shoulder at the woman currently staring at his back with that dreamy expression. He shakes his head at Yamcha. "You can tell yourself whatever you want, but I know what I saw." He hands him the ball after blowing on the ink. "Good luck man. With your _friend."_ He laughs and heads back to the bench.

Yamcha quickly hops back over the barrier ignoring the scowl of the security guy whose eyes clearly say, 'people see you doing it, and they are gonna think they can too.' He retakes his seat and passes her the ball.

"You got it signed?" She asks, looking at the ball before bursting into laughter and he finally takes a look at the ball, and there in black ink, "Yamcha's Girl: Nice Catch. -Reed Fenris"

"That asshole!" He yells, "He was just supposed to sign his name!"

She laughs "I love it, Yamcha!" She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him into her, ball still in hand.

He wraps his arms around her and breathes in the scent of her hair, "Even though he called you 'Yamcha's girl'?"

She laughs in his ear and he can feel the rumble in her chest before she pulls away, "I like it. I have been called _much_ worse things." She looks down at the ball in her hand, "And now it reminds me of the whole game, the kiss cam, the announcer, not just the catch."

He feels himself blush again and nervously rubs his head through his hat, "I'm glad you like it."

* * *

They leave the game in almost the same way they came in, except now, everyone is heading the same direction, and the crowds are much thicker, but Yamcha is still surprised when she slides her arm through his, holding onto his elbow and upper arm as he cuts through the crowd. When they finally make it out onto the street, he looks down at his watch, 2:30. He looks over at her, her arm still linked with his and holding onto her ball carefully, "What time do you work?"

"Uh, 3:30." She looks at his watch, "Well shit. Don't really have time to walk all the way home and back."

"I am so sorry." Yamcha starts, "I didn't think it would go that long. I-"

"Oh hush. It is fine. I have an extra uniform at the bar. How about we go there now and we can have a drink before my shift." He nods and she starts walking in the direction of the bar, pulling him along with her until she seems to realize that she is still holding onto him and lets go.

"Should you really be drinking before work?" He asks with a smile.

She turns to look up at him with a devious smirk, "Wanna know a secret Yamcha?" He nods hesitantly, "I'm always a bit drunk. Frankly, Pete would be more concerned if I _didn't_ drink some before starting my shift."

"Wait." Yamcha narrows his eyes, "Were you drunk last night?"

"Yeah. Not as much as I usually am though. That was the first time I had left that bar mostly sober since I started working there." She giggles, "Did you notice me taking drinks from a water bottle when I would refill your beer?" He nods, "Yeah, not water. Whiskey."

He starts laughing, "And here I was making excuses about being too drunk to fight when you were probably even drunker than I was."

"Hey, don't take it personally. I'm a special case. Baka, one of the fucking fruitcakes that raised me after my parents died was a specialist in drunken fighting. I get a lot of my techniques from him and, and because of that, the drunker I am, the more control I have over my fighting."

He tilts his head at her, "I have fought a few drunken fighters... you didn't move like them when you fought me."

She smirks, "I was holding back. No need for special movies when I was just testing you... and besides. I don't always move like that. Fighting was a big deal where I come from. I learned to fight at a very young age, but their style is very rigid and structured." She shrugs, "My hybrid style is really weird. I learned a lot from all of those crazy bastards."

"I can't wait to see you really fight." He mutters.

"I feel the same. I can feel that you have so much potential." She sighs, "Is it strange to say that I just wanna feel you punch me in the face?"

"Yeah, probably." He laughs, "But I get it. I really get it." They finally reach Pete's and he pulls the door open for her with a jingle. She throws her arm up in a wave as the two of them head to the bar and each grab a stool.

Pete walks over and looks at the two of them with a raised brow, before focusing on Rhuby, "You are here early... wait... did you go to the game?"

She grins, "Yep." She holds up her signed ball, "Caught a ball and everything!"

Pete shakes his head but his amused grin is obvious, "What can I get you two?"

"The usual for me." She replies, and then it is Yamcha's turn,

"A beer is good. Whatever you gave me last night was good?" He looks at Rhuby.

"Rocky Mountain Brew" She tells Pete, "And until I go on duty, he is on my tab." Pete nods and heads off to the other side of the bar.

"Hey! You don't have to do that!" Yamcha exclaims.

"Oh shut it. You bought me like six hotdogs today. Let me pay for you to get a little drunk, alright?"

"Yeah fine." He mutters, as Pete returns, sliding him a stein of the frothy, cold beer, and then sitting an entire unopened bottle of Jack Daniels in front of Rhuby.

"There is the bottle you ran out on last night. Show it some love, it probably feels betrayed." Pete mumbles, monotone.

Rhuby exaggeratedly sticks out her bottom lip, running her hand up the neck of the bottle. "Oh poor baby! I am sorry I forgot about you!" She swiftly unwraps and uncorks the top before bringing it to her lips and then straight up in the air. Yamcha watches in utter amazement as she chugs the whiskey like water, downing about a quarter of the bottle in one motion before returning the bottle to the table and smiling at him.

"... _Damn."_ Is all Yamcha can say for a moment. "What was that like, five shots?"

She nods, sipping from the bottle again, "Around six now...Are you cool with being friends with a professional drunk?"

"Of course. We all have our shit." He tips his drink towards her, "Personally, I think it is kinda impressive." He takes a drink, "So..." She turns to look at him again with a raised brow, "You mentioned your parents dying and other people raising you...am I allowed to ask about that? You don't have to tell me anything you don't want...I am just...curious."

She shrugs, "I guess you can ask..." She gulps down more whiskey. "I came from a pretty small village pretty far from here. Not too many people, but...They were strong, and oh so very proud. Strength was life. Life was fighting..." More whiskey, "When I was young, there was a man who came to us, wanting to boost his army. If we fought for him, we lived." She sighs,

"What happened?" Yamcha asks quietly, not wanting to push, but just to encourage her to continue. That he was listening.

"My uncle was the King, and when the queen and my dad died around the same time, my mom and my uncle sort of ruled together as siblings...They were split on what to do. My uncle said we should play along. Maybe bide our time until we could take the advantage and rebel, and my mother thought we should just fight him, right then and there, and maybe some of us -us being the kids- could escape in the chaos."

"Who won? Your mom or your uncle?"

"My uncle of course. He was the King. She didn't really have any power. So she begrudgingly accepted, except, then the man asked for a gesture of goodwill, The king's son, who I saw as my brother, and myself being taken by _him_ to be part of his personal guard... and my mom snapped. Village be damned, she wasn't going to let that monster take me. So, she told me to go fight with one of the other kids in town... one who had notoriously injured me in the past, and told me to get hurt again."

Yamcha gulps, "Wait, did she fake your death?"

She chuckles, "Yeah, that was the plan. Our funerals were like the vikings, setting the corpse drift down the river and such." She drinks again, "I remember bleeding. Being delirious. Thinking I was going to die before I even reached any other town, and then it was all for nothing. I didn't even get to die with honor...but then four fucking fruitcakes in a boat fished me out of the water and took me in." She smiles down into her whiskey and Yamcha smiles with her.

He laughs, "They turned my world upside down. I came from a place where the weak were cast out and the strong prevailed, but now I was a part of a group, who were basically vigilante _pirates._ Stealing from the rich to give to the poor. Hurting the wicked to protect the weak. They liked to laugh and hug and talk about _feelings._ It was surreal"

Yamcha beams at her, "You were raised by pirates?" She nods with a smile, and then Yamcha's curiosity wins out, "What happened to them? What happened to your village?"

Her face falls back into sadness as she drinks again, nearing the bottom of the bottle, "The monster killed them all anyway. I think my brother is still alive out there somewhere...maybe. And the boy I used to fight once mentioned his brother being out on a trip here when the attack happened." She scoffs, "That's why I came here. I was looking for him. I had no hope of finding my brother, so at least I could try to find someone else like family right?"

"You never found him?"

"Nope. No way to find him now. The world's a big place and I have no idea where I would start. My pirate family all retired to start real families, so Daijin, the captain, and my surrogate dad, sent me here to his friend Pete to see if I could start my search." She finishes off the bottle, "Didn't pan out, but he got me a job and a place to live, so I am happy."

In a moment of maybe drunken overconfidence, Yamcha reaches across the space between them to grab her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across her fingers, "Hey, if you want to try again, I'm more than happy to help you look for your brother and the other guy. Whatever it takes, whatever you need, I'll help."

She furrows her brow and stares at him for a moment, "You'd do that?"

"Of course I would! We are friends, right?!"

She laughs, "Yeah, we are." She glances up at the clock behind the bar, "I probably need to go get changed and start my shift."

Yamcha stands up, releasing her hand "I am sure you are probably sick of me, so I'll head out and let you work in peace."

She stands up beside him, "I would never!" She touches his left arm, just above his elbow, "Thank you for today, Yamcha. I had a great time." Her mouth opens for a moment, "Oh!" She leans over the bar and pops back up with a notepad and pen, scribbling down something before handing him a note with a phone number. "Let's hang out again soon, yeah?"

"Yeah." He picks up his beer and finishes it off, before gently wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest loosely. After a moment, she wraps her arms around him too as he speaks into her hair, "I had a great time too. I'll call you soon." He releases her and leaves with a smile and a wave over his shoulder.

Rhuby watches his retreating form as he leaves the bar and heads down the street before turning back to the bar and Pete's amused gaze, " _Village,_ eh?" She glares in response, "You are playing with fire, kid. Be careful."

"I had to tell him something! And I didn't want to _completely_ lie! What was I supposed to do?"

"You didn't _have_ to tell him anything. You _wanted_ to. You want him to know you. And you want to know him. Don't try to piss on my face and tell me it's rainin'. I know a crush when I see one."

She glares at him as she heads to the back room, "We are just _friends!"_ She yells.

"Yeah, like Daijin is _just_ a ship captain." He yells back, and she slams the door in response.


	3. Bad Moon Rising

Just as he promised, the next day, with a lot of encouragement and teasing from Puar, he called her around midday, figuring she would be getting up for work. He heard her voice in the receiver, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Yamcha! I hope it's not a bad time!" He answers, looking at Puars big grin and his two furry thumbs up,

"Yamcha!" He can almost hear the smile in her voice and it sends a warm jolt through his body, "How are you?"

"Good, I have practice later today, so I figured if I didn't call you now, I wouldn't get a chance, and I didn't want to make you wait. I am realizing now, I don't really know when is a good time to call."

"Well, I am easy to plan around, I just live strange hours." She laughs, and it still sounds sweet through the crackling of the phone, " I work 3P to 3A every day. I get home about 3:30. Then I watch TV until the sun comes up, usually around five AM, and then I wake up around noon."

Yamcha looks to the clock on the wall, 12:30. "Oh man, did I wake you up?"

"Oh nah!, I woke up a little earlier today, I gotta grab a few things from the store before I go into work."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't wanna keep you from your errands, I can let you go...?"

"Wait, Yamcha." He waits in silence for a moment before she continues. "Thank you for calling. It was good to hear from you. To hear your voice." She said it so casually, but the warm fuzzy feeling still drifted up his spine.

"Yeah, it was good to talk to you too. I was planning to get my game and practice schedule for the upcoming weeks today, so I can see when our schedules line up and we can do something..." he hesitates, "Even if that something is just watching B movies on those terrible 300 channels."

She laughs, "That sounds great."

"Talk to ya later Rhuby, have a good day at work."

"Have a good practice!" She calls, and the line goes dead. He looks back up at Puar rather than the base of the phone which seemed very interesting that whole phone call.

"Yamcha, you're blushing!" He taunts.

Yamcha places the phone back on the hook, "Puar...I am so _fucked._ "

He giggles, "Because you entered into a friendship with a girl you _reealllyy_ don't want to just be friends with?"

Yamcha shakes his head vigorously, "No! I can do this! I can be _friends_ with a pretty girl! Who can fight...and drink me under the table...and is fun at baseball games... and kisses like a _goddess._.." He slaps himself in the head, "Get it together, Yamcha! You got this!"

Puar sighs, "Whatever you say, Yamcha!"

* * *

Yamcha was expecting teases. Catcalls. Slaps on the shoulder even. But when he walked into the room, and found his entire team looking at the TV that _usually_ plays previous games so that they can analyze their playing, instead replaying footage from a kiss cam. A _very_ familiar kiss cam. He feels his face turn red as he watches himself on the screen. And watches her on the screen. Feeling it was _indescribable_ but watching it again as an outside party was something else. He never got to really _see_ the way her body relaxed into the first, hesitant kiss. The way her body drifted closer to his, and her hands went up to touch his chest before she stopped them just short of him. He never saw the the flash of desperation and _need_ that flashed across her face as he started to pull away, before those same hands that were so hesitant before shot upwards to caress his face with reverence before diving into his hair. He didn't realize how he leaned across the arm between them to try to get closer to her, and how she was doing the same. He didn't realize just _how_ close their bodies were.

It wasn't until he watched the whole kiss, down to their separation and resting their foreheads together that he really caught up to the situation. _Why am I watching this...More importantly, why are THEY watching this?_ "You assholes recorded it?!" He yells, and his team turns to look at him.

Murdock answers first, "Of _course_ we did! Just look at you two!" The room claps and Yamcha continues to scowl, "I have watched more than my share of porn, but that is one of the _hottest_ kisses I have ever seen, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that I am jealous it was _you._ "

Disjointed nods and mutters fill the room, and Yamcha waves his hands, "Guys, please just drop it. It wasn't like that, really."

Pepper scoffs, "What? You expect us to believe you are just _friends_?"

"We are!" Yamcha replies, and riotous laughter meets him.

"Murdock shakes his head, "Friends don't kiss like that!" He turns back to the screen and pauses it at the moment they separate, when his eyes are still closed and she is just staring at him, with a dreamy expression and lidded eyes, "Look at her, man! She is a fuckin' _fox_ and she is looking at you like she wants to jump you right there in those uncomfortable fucking stadium seats!"

Mutters of agreement from the team and Yamcha sighs, "Please guys. Just drop it..." They start to protest again, but he cuts them off "No! She keeps telling me she just wants to be friends. I don't care what you guys _see._ I am going to listen to what she _says._ And I am _not_ going to ruin this by letting you guys get my hopes up!"

They remain silent for a moment, before Barry stands up, cutting through the crowd to the TV and ejecting the tape before walking up beside Yamcha, clapping him on the shoulder. "We get it man. We'll leave it alone." He hands Yamcha the tape, "It's all yours." Barry gestures over his shoulder and the guys whisper to themselves as they head to the locker room to get ready for practice.

Yamcha stares at the tape for a moment, and his mind is telling him that he should throw it away. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about her like that if he wants this friendship to work. His fingers tighten slightly around the plastic. _But what if?_ He glances from the tape to the trashcan in the corner, _What if something changes? This is our first kiss. If in the off chance that they_ are _right, and we_ do _become something more, I am going to want to keep this. I would regret throwing it away..._

 _Oh fuck it. What's the harm in keeping it? As long as I don't look at it or think about it, I'll be fine.  
_

* * *

Days pass, and Yamcha and Rhuby continue to talk at least once a day. They haven't seen each other since the game, but they work around their schedules, making sure to tell each other about their days, her funny stories about drunk regulars, and his rambling about batting averages and statistics. He has tried not to bother her at work; not wanting her to feel obligated to talk to him over other customers, but after he gets out of an early practice one Saturday, around a week after their first meeting and realizes that she should just be heading into work, he decides to swing by and see her. _Not that he misses her or anything._

He steps inside Pete's bar, and sees the bustle of a bar on a Saturday, but when he looks to the bar he sees Pete and a younger guy, who sort of looks like Pete. No Rhuby in sight. _I thought she said she works everyday._ He slides up to the bar and Pete catches his eye, and Yamcha gets the feeling he knows the question before he even asks it, "Is Rhuby not here?"

The large bearded man shrugs, "We all got our fears, man."

Yamcha furrows his brow, "What do you mean?"

Pete leans forward, resting his elbows on the bar to talk to Yamcha, "You know that saying that doctors and cops use? The one that the crazies all come out on the full moon?" Yamcha nods, he has heard that, and he has seen some pretty crazy shit on the full moon too, "Well, Rhuby takes it pretty serious. She doesn't leave her house on the full moon. She takes the day off, and my kid Vinnie fills in for her." He throws a thumb over his shoulder at the young guy making cocktails for some girls near the far end of the bar.

"So she is just home alone? On her only day off?"

He nods, before smirking, "She doesn't have to be. You know where she lives don't ya?" He nods, and Pete speaks again, "Between you and me, kid. She likes to pretend like she doesn't get lonely. Like she _isn't_ looking at that door everytime the bell rings to see if it's you comin' to talk to her. But she does."

Yamcha smiles, "Do you know what kind of movies she likes?"

He shakes his head, "She likes those kungfu movies. And anything with explosions and dismemberment. She likes a good horror flick every now and then too."

"Thanks Pete." Yamcha says before heading out the door and down the street.

* * *

Yamcha stands at the door in the dim dusk light, knocking a few times and hoping and praying he isn't over stepping here. A few moments later the door opens up, and he is struck with a sight that absolutely brings a smile to his face. Her hair isn't in her signature ponytail, instead it is falling around her in a thick, tangled mess of black spikes. She is wearing an oversized grey shirt that comes to her mid thigh. He can't see her shorts, but he sees the corner of the familiar red sash she always wears peeking out from underneath. Her feet are bare, and she is holding a bottle of tequila, but she is looking up at him like she can't believe he is there. "Yamcha?"

He smiles nervously, holding up the bag of tapes, "I stopped by the bar and Pete said you had the night off, so I figured we could watch a movie." He pauses, lightly shaking the large bucket of popcorn in his other arm, "I remembered you saying you liked popcorn with your TV, so I grabbed some from the movie theatre on my way here."

She exhales deeply, still staring at him like he isn't real, and he starts to worry that he fucked up as she speaks, "Yamcha, you..."

"It's fine if you don't want to...I just thought... I can go-" He stammers, starting to back up.

She laughs and grabs his wrist, pulling him in the door. "Yamcha, you are the best. Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before." She gestures to the couch. "Have a seat. I'll go get changed."

"No don't." He interrupts. And she gives him a quizzical look, "I mean, it's your day off. You should be comfortable. Don't change on my account."

She smirks, "Alright. You want a drink then?"

He sits down on the couch, "Sure. I'll take some of whatever you are having..." He looks across the back of the couch at her in the kitchen, "Unless of course, that whole bottle is for you?"

She laughs, putting her hand on her hip, "It is, but I have more. You did bring me movies and popcorn after all." He turns back around and he hears her open up the fridge, and grabbing a bottle. Then he hears her fiddling with glasses somewhere behind him,"You should feel special. I don't drink out of a glass for just anyone." He is still listening to her, but his eyes fall just to the left of the TV, on top of a little bookshelf. A little glass display case with her ball in it. _She got a case for it?_ And then he notices that the signature isn't what is centered in the display. It's the first part. The part that says "Yamcha's Girl." _Any store that would box it for her would have centered the signature unless she requested otherwise. She requested..._ He frantically tries to swallow down the lump in his throat and act cool as she walks around the couch to sit beside him, putting the bottle and two tumblers down on the coffee table right next to the popcorn.

She turns to him with a smile, "So what are we watching first?"

"Oh!" He stammers and takes out the tapes from the plastic bag, "I got you a few choices." He fans them out in front of her, and she puckers her lips while looking them over.

"Have you seen any of them?"

"Nope. Have you?"

"Nah. It will be a new experience for the both of us." She hums, and glances up to meet his eyes over the tapes, "How about the Brice Lee one? So we can both poke holes in their depictions of martial arts?"

He laughs, "You do that too?"

"Of course! They are hilarious." He nods and gets up, walking to her TV and starting the movie before flicking off the main light and taking his seat next to her on the couch. He tries to sit a casual distance away, but then she leans into him, curling her legs up underneath her and resting the bowl of popcorn in between them in the bend of her knees. THe movie starts up and he glances over at her, eating popcorn. _Well, she started it, so I guess it's okay._ He lifts his arm out from under her and wraps it around her shoulders and tilted body, careful not to pull on her hair. He smiles when she just settles in against him. He reaches into the popcorn with his other hand and they fall into a steady rhythm of snacking, drinking, and laughing at dumb movies as they wait for the sun to come up.

* * *

Three months. Three months since he first met her, and his sleeping schedule is at least twelve kinds of fucked, but he couldn't care less.

Because staying up all night with her watching movies until the sun comes up are some of the best nights of his life.

Because when he drops by the bar after a game or after practice and she looks so happy to see him, it makes his entire day worth it.

Because whenever they get the chance, they both wake up a little earlier and meet just outside the city, and they spar for a few hours, both of them holding back just a little bit less each time.

Because every time he is lining up a pitch and hears her cheering, and looks up to see her sitting with Puar in the stands cheering for him even though she is probably going to be a little late for work, he has to work really hard to keep his game face on.

Because everytime she comes over to his place for lunch before work, she always brings food for Puar too. She always treats him like her friend too, not just his roommate or like a cat.

Because every time she mentions him being her best friend, he is equal parts happy and crushed.

Because somewhere along the path from bartender and patron to best friends, even though he was trying very hard not to, he fell in love with his bartending sparring partner.

He came to this realization after coming back from her place one morning. She had fallen asleep on him during the movie and he had carried her to her room. And when he laid her down on her bed, she gripped his arm, and said his name in her sleep. Then he knew. He loved her. He'd give anything to hear her say his name like that every morning after staying with her through the night. He gently unwrapped her fingers from his arm and moved them to the edge of her comforter and she gripped that instead.

He left her house and flew back to his own, becoming painfully aware that not only was he hopelessly in love with Rhuby, but that he was nothing more than her best friend that she kissed once at a baseball game. So he did what he felt like anyone would do in that situation. He drank. And drank. And drank.

* * *

Bulma wakes up to the ringing of the house phone, and she desperately flails to reach the infuriating device before it wakes the baby. "Hello?"

"Hey Bulma...you busy?" A voice slurs on the other end.

"Yamcha?" She asks, looking at the clock on the nightstand and meeting Vegeta's annoyed gaze, "Are you _drunk_? It's eight AM!"

He laughs, "In my defense, I haven't been to bed yet."

"Are you okay? What is wrong?" Bulma asks and Vegeta lets out an angry huff.

Yamcha either laughs or sobs, and Bulma can't tell which as Vegeta mutters, "Is this another drunken declaration of his undying love for you? I thought he quit this years ago..." Bulma waves her hands at him with a scowl.

"Yamcha. Tell me what happened." She demands, using her stern voice.

"I'm an idiot." He replies.

"Well, yeah. But you are gonna have to give me more than that." She replies harshly. She was looking forward to sleeping in on her Sunday morning. Not talking to a drunken Yamcha.

"So" He starts, and Bulma sits on the edge of the bed. She looks up at Vegeta. Who mutters something about going to train, and letting him know if he needed to kill Yamcha. "Hypothetically..." Bulma rolls her eyes, "There is this girl... we have been friends for a while now... But I just realized that I am in love with her...and she doesn't feel the same...and _will_ never feel the same... and I don't know what to do."

Bulma sighs, "Listen, Yamcha. We have talked about this, I love _Vegeta_. We have kids we-"

He interrupts her with a loud snort, "Wait, you think I am talking about you?!" She stands up and scowls at the wall, "Bulma, I got over you years ago. I called you because you are a girl and I thought you might be able to help." She growls at him laughing. She knows she should be happy, but his attitude just pisses her off.

"Who are you talking about then?!" She asks, a little too angrily, but she hopes he is too drunk to notice.

"Her name is Rhuby. We met about three months ago, and we see each other or at least talk on the phone almost everyday since."

"But you are just friends?"

"Yeah..." He sighs, and he sounds so sad that Bulma's anger from before dissolves. "She told me up front that she doesn't date. And she reminds me all the time that I am her best friend." She hears the distinct sound of him drinking, and then hiccuping. "But then sometimes I get the feeling that she likes me too? Like when we are watching a movie and she cuddles into me... or when we are sparring and she pins me, and just for a second, she gets this look in her eyes like she _wants_ me...but I think I am just projecting... that I am seeing what I want to see."

Bulma sits back down on the edge of the bed. "Why doesn't she date?"

"I don't know for sure, but I get the feeling it has something to do with sex...like, maybe she can't have it for some reason." Bulma hums in thought.

"Well, would that be a deal breaker?" She asks.

"What?"

"Well, you said that you think she can't have sex...So what if it's true? Would that change your feelings?"

Bulma sits there, hearing him breathing into the phone. "No. I don't even care. I mean, I'd be happy just to hold her. Kiss her... I mean, we could always adopt kids and I have a perfectly good hand for-"

"Alright!" She cuts him off, "I get the picture." She giggles, "So you really love this girl? Why not just tell her that?"

"I can't!" Yamcha yells, "I would rather be around her and not have her than to not be around her at all... She _is_ a great friend, Bulma. I can't just fuck that up."

Then, a brilliant idea hits her, "Wait, Yamcha! That party at Roshi's is in a couple days. You should bring her!"

"Why would I do that?"

Bulma scoffs, "Isn't it obvious? So I can meet her, and see if she likes you too. So you can make an educated declaration of love."

"And what if she _doesn't_ like me?"

"Then, I guess she will just be your friend forever because you don't know when to let go, so we will meet her eventually anyway."

"Fine. I'll ask her. I wasn't looking forward to coming alone anyway." He pauses. "Thanks Bulma... and please don't tell anyone about this... especially not Vegeta. He'd never let me live it down."

She smiles at the phone, "I am happy to help, Yamcha. You are still my friend."

"Yeah. You too." He replies before the click and the beeping of the dead line.


	4. Party

Rhuby sits on Yamcha's couch with Puar in her lap, "So, am I going as your friend, or do you want me to be your fake girlfriend or something?"

Yamcha laughs nervously, "No I have told most of them about my new sparring partner. They know we are just friends. I just don't really wanna be alone with all the couples and babies and stuff."

She laughs and rubs Puar's head, "Alright, I'll ask off work. Sounds like fun. Should I cook something?"

"If you want to. What about those weird pastries you made that one time? Those were really good?"

"My mom's recipe?" Yamcha nods, "Alright sure. If it'll make you happy." Yamcha sighs, _You make me happy._

* * *

Yamcha was immensely grateful they they both could fly because it made the trip to Roshi's so much easier. They had to fly pretty slow because he was holding Puar, and he had to admit, seeing her fly while keeping a platter of pastries level in one arm was really impressive.

Yamcha and Rhuby landed, and were immediately greeted by friends. He introduced her to everyone he passed, making a bit of small talk with each of his friends. He wanted to talk to them more, but first he needed to find Bulma. He needed her to meet Rhuby. To use her girl magic to see if she liked him too. The pastries were left on the dessert table as Yamcha maneuvered them through the familiar Kame house, before eventually finding Bulma and Vegeta outside by the grill. Vegeta's back was turned but Bulma was waving them towards her. Yamcha felt Rhuby's hand clench nervously on his bicep and he smiled down at her. He knew she was overwhelmed and he felt a little bad, but he didn't know what else to do.

Bulma calls out as they approach, "Hey Yamcha!"

They are separated by a few feet when Vegeta finally turns around and Yamcha begins to speak, "This is Bulma, and this is her husband-"

Yamcha feels her hand drop from his arm and looks down to see a look of total shock on her face as she finishes his sentence, "Vegeta?"

Yamcha turns his gaze to Vegeta who is wearing a matching look of shock, and he couldn't remember ever seeing such a strong emotion on the man's face, "Rhuebel?"

 _Wait, they_ know _each other?_ Yamcha is about to voice his questions when he hears Rhuby choke out a sob, "Vegeta!" and then in an instant, she is bridging the two foot gap between the two pairs and throwing herself into his arms, and to Yamcha's and Bulma's matching shock, he catches her, wrapping his arms softly around her back as her arms wrap around his neck. "You're _here?_!" She sobs again.

"You're alive?!" He asks, less gruffly than his usual voice but still his. Yamcha's heart is pounding. He is so confused. He is struck with a familiar jealousy when he sees _yet another_ girl he loves in the arms of the Saiyan. Lucky for him, Bulma asks questions first.

"How do you two know each other?" She asks, looking sternly at her husband.

He laughs as he sets Rhuby back on the ground, "Relax, woman. Whereas she is _technically_ my cousin. We were raised as siblings." _Siblings? Vegeta is her brother? That means she is..._ Vegeta looks down at her waist, scowling, "What _is_ that ridiculous thing?" He reaches forward quickly and in one swift move rips the familiar red sash from around her waist, revealing the furry brown tail coiled around her waist. "Wear your tail with _pride_ Rue, you are _royalty."_

Rhuby grasps at the fabric before trying to hide her tail with her hands, turning back to face Yamcha. He could see she had tears in her eyes, but he could see they weren't happy tears anymore. He spoke before she could, "You are a Saiyan?"

Her mouth hands open as she furrows her brow, "How do you-?"

"Goku has been my friend for most of my life, and I have known Vegeta for many years too." He starts thinking about everything she told him. About her 'village'. Her people. Her past. And her strength and her secrecy. The way she hid in her house on the full moon...

"Yamcha..." The sadness in her voice brings him back to the present, "I am sorry I lied. Are you mad at me? I-"

He reaches forward and pulls her into his arms, resting his head on the top of hers and breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, "Of course I am not _mad_ at you. I get it. Totally. And honestly, everything makes a lot more sense now." He feels her arms wrap around his waist and grip him tight as she buries her face in his neck. "Human, Saiyan. Whatever. You are my friend, Rhuby." He rubs his hands across her back and watches with passive wonder as her tail unfurls from her waist before dropping low and vibrating just below her back. He doesn't understand the significance of that particular motion, but Vegeta certainly does.

* * *

Bulma grabs the hand of her raging husband, pulling him away from the romantic scene they are intruding on. He turns to glare at her, " _What_ are you _doing?_ "

"Getting you out of there before you ruin it!" She continues pulling him further onto the beach.

"Maybe I should ruin it!" He growls, "That is my _sister._ Who up until a few moments ago, I believed to be _dead._ And now I have to see her in the arms of none other than _Yamcha_?" Vegeta hisses his name.

"And what is so bad about Yamcha? Is it because he is human?"

He drags his glare from the offending couple and back to her, "I don't care _what_ he is. It's about _who_ he is. Have you forgotten about how he treated you? How many women he has philandered about with since?"

"People can change Vegeta. _You_ of all people should get that!"

He clenches his fists and even Bulma can feel his energy flare, "Oh all people she could have bonded to, why did it have to be _him?_ "

"Bonded to?" Bulma asks. Partially curious. Partially trying to distract him and keep him from killing Yamcha.

"I don't know if you have noticed but Saiyans tend to pick one partner and stick with them for life. They may have casual partners before, but once they _love._ It's done. That's it. It's them or no-one."

Bulma tried to ignore the fact that she wanted to ask if he was bonded to her, and ask for her friend, "Why do you think she is bonded to Yamcha? They are just friends."

He chuckles darkly, "Not to her they aren't." He sighs, "Tails can be controlled consciously, but they also operate on the subconscious level. Even if she is lying to herself about what she feels for him, her tail doesn't lie. And the way her tail vibrated when he held her told me that they were bonded."

"Give him a chance Vegeta..." Bulma pleads. And Vegeta watches his only remaining family member wrap her arm through Yamcha's as they begin to head in the house.

"I need you to distract her for me." Vegeta whispers. "I need a moment to speak to the scarface, and if she realizes what I am doing, things won't end well."

"You promise you won't hurt him?" Bulma asks, and Vegeta growls,

"If he tells me the truth, and I believe his intentions are good. I will not harm him." Bulma shrugs. That's probably as good as she is going to get. And then she darts forward, grabbing Rhuby's other arm in the same way she is holding Yamcha's.

"Come with me to the kitchen, you are my husband's sister, and that makes you family and I need to know everything about you!" She exclaims and stifles a laugh as Rhuby nervously looks at Yamcha who nods with a smile, and Rhuby follows Bulma deeper into the house.

Yamcha watches dumbly as his ex-girlfriend drags his current crush into the house. _So she is a Saiyan. That's cool. Honestly, I probably shoulda put it all together before now. But I thought they were all dead except Goku and Vegeta and-_

He his pulled from his thoughts by a painful grip on his shoulder, and an angry voice in his here. "A word?" He pauses, pulling his shoulder "Out here?"

 _Oh shit. She is Vegeta's_ sister. _I should probably be more concerned about what he is going to do to me._ He follows Vegeta silently towards the beach at the back of the house. When they are basically alone he turns suddenly, staring Yamcha down like prey. "I am going to ask you some questions and if you _dare_ to lie to me, I will rip your spine out through your throat."

"O-Okay" He stammers,

"What exactly are your feelings for my sister?"

He puts his hands up. _Yep. Big brothers are the same everywhere._ "Hey man. It's not like that we are just friends and-" and then Vegeta's hand is lifting him up by the front of his shirt.

"I did not inquire as to your _status._ I asked about your _feelings._ There is a _difference._ "

"Okay okay!" Yamcha swallows. _He will know if I lie...dammit!_ "I... I love her, alright! But it doesn't matter because she just wants to be friends, and I am not going to try to push her for more than she wants to give, okay?"

"You _love_ her?" He sits Yamcha back on the ground, but doesn't release him. "Are you sure? Because you claimed to love Bulma, yet you fraternized with other women whilst the two of you were on your infamous _breaks._ "

"I-" Yamcha was stunned about being called out by Vegeta. Especially since he was _right._ He may be an asshole to everyone, but he is good to Bulma and their kids. Better than he was... "I don't want to be that anymore. I just want _one_ girl. I just want _her._ "

Vegeta tilts his head menacingly, "So if she _were_ to return your feelings, you would intend to marry her? _Til death do you part?_ "

Yamcha furrows his brow, _What the hell is this?_ "Yeah. But she doesn't. So why does this matter? I haven't _defiled_ your sister or whatever you are about to try to kill me for!"

Vegeta finally releases him. "I need you to listen to me closely, because I will not repeat myself, and if you ever mention this conversation ever happened, not only will I deny it, but I won't hesitate to break every bone in your body."

"Uh-"

" _Do. Not._ Interrupt me." Yamcha nods nervously. "I don't like you. I will probably never like you. But I do tolerate your existence. That being said, if you hadn't brought her here tonight, I wouldn't have known that she was alive. So I owe you for that." He sighs, stepping closer to Yamcha, who holds his ground despite every instinct telling him to back up. " First: Saiyan women are proud. They demand respect. They demand loyalty. They will give you the same in return. And if you hurt my _sister,_ in any way, I _will_ kill you... Second: my sister, like all Saiyan women, is drawn to the strong. Your superiority over the average earthling is no doubt why she was drawn to you. Use that. Basically, spar with her as your equal. She outclasses you. The harder you hit her, the more impressed she will be with you."

"I don't-" Yamcha starts but Vegeta's vicious glare shuts him up. _Is he giving me advice? On how to get his_ sister _?_

Vegeta sighs loudly, clapping his right hand over his face, "Third: She will fight you for dominance. Don't give it up without a fight." _What?_ "A firm grip at the base of the tail is a power play. She'll like that."

"I thought grabbing the tail hurt?"

Vegeta growls, "Do you _really_ need me to explain the connection between pain and sexual pleasure to you?"

"Oh?" _Oh!_ "Oh no. I got it." _Oh dear Kami, is this really happening? Is Vegeta really giving me Saiyan sex advice? Why?_ "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because. I may not like you, but I want nothing more than to see my sister alive and happy, and if what makes her happy is... _you..._ " He growls again, "Then I owe it to her to help you not be a clueless oaf."

Yamcha shakes his head, "But I... she doesn't like me like that... she-"

"Shut up." Vegeta starts. "There are things that may seem like nothing to you, but as a Saiyan, they are obvious to me."

Yamcha is stunned. He doesn't know what to say, so he says the first thing that comes to mind, "She made pastries that she said were her mother's recipe. They are inside."

He narrows his eyes, "Diatrams?" Yamcha shrugs, and Vegeta shoves past him towards the house, "Outta my way."

Yamcha follows him a few moments later, re-entering the main part of the house to find Vegeta at the dessert table, eating the fluffy cookie-like pastries and yelling at Kakarot and Trunks to come try a piece of their heritage. He looks at Rhuby, who is standing with Bulma and holding baby Bra. "Oh come on Vegeta, don't eat them all. Let everyone try one."

"Why should I? It's Saiyan food. Saiyans should get their fill first."

Yamcha laughs as she clenches her teeth, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find the ingredients for those now? Eat sparingly, _your majesty._ "

Yamcha walks behind the kitchen counter to join Rhuby and Bulma, and trying hard not to make Bra cry again. Vegeta puts up a hand, "You are right. Half the flavors in those don't even have an earth equivalent. How did you do it?"

Rhuby leans into Yamcha subconsciously and replies with a smirk, "I know people." And then Yamcha remembered the rest of the story. She was raised by vigilante pirates. Who he now knows must have been space pirates. There is absolutely _no telling_ what kinds of people she knows.

Vegeta turns around to walk over to the kitchen to join them, "How are you even alive? I distinctly remember all of us firing ki blasts onto your pyre as we shot you into space."

Yamcha swallows hard, he never really thought of the specifics, but Rhuby shrugs, "Yeah. Mother was more willing to take the chance of me accidently burning to death before I landed somewhere rather than handing me over to Frieza... I don't think she told anyone that I wasn't dead. Not even Raditz knew. How did he take it?"

Vegeta chuckles darkly, "Not well. I _may_ have never let him forget that he lost any chance of being important when he accidentally killed the princess of Saiyans. He became an even bigger asshole."

"No thanks to you, I am sure." She replies, and baby Bra reaches for Bulma who takes the baby back, and she returns her hand to its comfortable place holding onto Yamcha's arm. "I came to earth looking for Kakarot. Never thought I'd find you..." She laughs, "Much less you, your human wife and your two adorable kids."

Vegeta scoffs. "I never imagined my dead sister walking in with a weakling like _him_ on her arm. I guess we are all a little surprised." Yamcha has gotten used to the jibes, but judging from the fact that her fingers begin to dig into his arm, Rhuby was not quite as okay. He was touched.

She raises her other hand, her ring finger and thumb creating a half circle, and Yamcha can see the little wisps in the air around her hand and feels the energy flow changing in the room. All attention in the room is now watching with anticipation. Bulma, Chichi, 18 and Videl all ushering their kids out of the room just in case.

Yamcha watches Vegeta tense and swallow hard, "What are you doing to me?" He chokes out.

"Making you apologize." She answers calmly.

"You think you can make me apologize to that-" He chokes out before Rhuby makes her

half circle smaller, her fingers almost touching and Vegeta clutches his chest. "Okay _FINE!_ I'm sorry!"

She smirks and Yamcha watches the exchange in utter and complete awe. "Are you apologizing to me or to Yamcha?"

"Both! Whatever you want! Just. Stop!" Vegeta croaks, and Rhuby drops her hand and Vegeta inhales dramatically, "What the _hell,_ did you just do to me, sister?"

"Little trick I picked up. Total Ki manipulation. I was using all your power against you. Making it contract inside your body. The stronger you are, the more debilitating it is. It's a great equalizer, don't you think?." She laughs, "I could have also used it to control your body like a puppet... and before you ask, the effect is multiplied if you enter a Super Saiyan form."

"That's..." He laughs, "You haven't changed."

The room breaks out into nervous laughter and Vegeta grabs one more pastry and heads back outside to where Bulma is talking to Chichi. Yamcha turns to Rhuby, "I don't think I have ever heard that man apologize to anyone before."

She smiles up at him, "I had to defend your honor, right?" She playfully pushes him with her hip and he feels her tail tickle his arm. "Besides, he is my brother. If I don't mess with him, who will?"

He laughs and nervously scratches his head, "Yeah I guess you are right."

"Hey Yamcha?" He hums in response, "Thank you... You promised to help me find my brother, and you did." She laughs, "I am sure this isn't how you imagined it, but you still did it. Thank you."

He wraps his arm around her shoulders and she leans into him. He can't get Vegeta's words out of his head. He was saying that he could see things that Yamcha missed. He was encouraging him to pursue her...Surely this isn't some elaborate prank, right? "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course." She answers, and Yamcha pulls her so they are leaning back against the cabinets. They are the only ones left in the kitchen now. Everyone else went outside to the grill.

"Is the reason you didn't date because you were afraid of people seeing your tail? Learning you weren't human?" He feels her nod against his chest where she is tucked against him. His heart starts beating faster as his confidence swells. Now or never. He gently grabs her shoulders and moving her so she is facing him, looking at him with those expressive brown eyes, "I love you, Rhuby." He sees her shock as her mouth opens, and he wills himself to keep going, "I have for a while. I don't care that you are from another planet. I like you how you are. Will you give me a chance? Will you go out on a date with me?" He is rushing at the end, and then he just stares at her. Terrified. Heart hammering in his chest.

"Yamcha..." She starts, and then he notices tears in her eyes. _Shit. This is it._ "You big idiot..." Her lips quirk up into a soft smile, "I've loved you since you kicked me in the face. I was just so scared...of what you would think of me...I thought you'd be afraid. I thought-"

He cuts her off by crashing his lips to hers, and her arms wrap around his neck as she presses her body against his. His right hand holds the back of her neck and his left moves to grab her lower back to pull her against him. His tongue darts out to touch her lips and she grants him entrance to her mouth. The two of them melding together as he plunders her mouth like he wanted to do ever since that baseball game and pushes her up against the cabinets.

Then she moves her hands to his chest, softly pushing him back, "Yamcha..." She sighs. And he rests his forehead against hers, catching his breath while she speaks, "Can we continue talking to your friends, and then continue this when we get back to your place?"

He nods against her head, and she smiles, "Just one thing..." She raises her brows and he can feel it on his own skin, "Are we still here as friends, or...?" She punches him in the stomach and he leans back laughing,

"What do you think?" she pushes herself off the cabinets,

"I think that I have a Saiyan girlfriend..." He reaches out, offering her his hand, "Are you cool with that?"

"Well," She takes his hand in her left before she raises the other to pull his face down to hers for another quick kiss, "People have been calling me Yamcha's girl for months, so I may as well make it true."


	5. Yamcha's Girl

NOTES:: NSFW Warning

* * *

Rhuby spent the last few hours mingling with Yamcha's friends. Her brother's friends. And she really liked them. Bulma, whom she was the most afraid of meeting... the girl who Yamcha once loved, turned out to be her brother's _wife._ And also a really fun person. Goku was the nicest Saiyan she had ever met, and nothing like his brother. Everyone was happy, and knew each other and she loved talking to each of them, and she knows Yamcha did from the joy on his face when he was talking to them. He missed them. His first conversation with her was how he was jealous of them. Jealous of their loves. Their families. She couldn't help but wonder if he was happier now that they were... _together?_ Is that what they were? I guess so.

It was a crazy night. In a span of minutes, she found her long lost family, had her biggest secret revealed to the man she was in love with. And then not long after, that man professed his love for her. It was...incredible. She was having trouble believing that it was real. How did she deserve this? She was the coward who abandoned her people and never looked back until her new family disbanded too...She was the asshole who was selfishly using Yamcha to fill a void with little thought to if she was stringing him along or not. How did she deserve someone so genuine as him? So kind. So awkward. So _attractive._

She looked up at the sky while people were slowly getting in their skycars or flying away. Then she felt Yamcha slide up beside her, carefully sliding an arm around her waist, "You ready to leave?"

She twists in his arm to look at him, before looking around them, "Where's Puar?"

She watches his grin widen, apparently at her instantly remembering his best friend that _they_ brought here. "He's gonna visit Oolong. He'll be back at the house sometime tomorrow."

"Why is he-?" She starts before seeing his blush and its contrast against the devilish grin he is wearing, "Oh...oh!"

"I mean, I don't _expect_ anything, but Puar just figured he would make himself scarce just in case." He stammers, "Oh that sounds bad. I'm sorry, I-"

"Yamcha!" she places her hands on his _very_ defined chest. "Relax. I _am_ expecting something." She smirks at him, stepping closer. "I spent hours here talking to all your friends... you better put out..." She sees him close his eyes and shudder under her hands, and a small look of anguish crosses his face and suddenly that insecurity strikes back full force, "Unless you don't want to, I mean, it will probably take a while to get used to the idea of putting your dick in an alien with a tail but I-"

Warm lips against hers stop her tirade mid-track. He pulls away just enough to whisper, "I promise you...that's not the problem." He steps closer so her body is flush with his and she feels his hardness bump into her stomach, "That's...the problem." He kisses her again before laughing into her lips, "I didn't really _like_ the idea of getting a boner in front of all my friends, but whatever...I always make a fool of myself anyway."

A loud cough draws them away from each other and Vegeta is standing there. Scowling. As usual. He has changed a lot, but some things always stay the same. "I can tolerate this atrocity in knowledge, but I will not allow you two to assault my _eyes_ as well." Rhuby rolls her eyes, and he turns his gaze from Yamcha to her, "Off to finish your bonding then? You should at least consider telling him what he is in for _before_ it is done."

She scoffs, "Oh? And did you tell Bulma what she was in for before you...coupled?"

His mouth drops for just a moment before slamming shut again, "That's different."

"Oh really? How so?" She retorts, acknowledging Yamcha's growing confusion as he stands beside her.

"For one, the coupling happened before the bonding. For another, Bulma was prone to long term relationships." His gaze turns to Yamcha, "Not a parade of women in and out of the bedroom like one of those..." He growls, "The stupid party, dance move, things?"

Yamcha answers, "A conga line?"

"Yes! Exactly!"

"Oh come on, there weren't _that_ many!" Yamcha defends before an exceptionally menacing glare from Vegeta, he stutters a bit when he continues. "Besides, I already told you, I'm not like that anymore!"

Rhuby looks between them for a moment, "Wait...already _told you_?" She glares at Vegeta, "Did you fucking _threaten_ him?"

Vegeta shrugs, "What sort of brother would I be if I didn't threaten your potential bondmate?"

"This isn't Vegeta-sei! This is Earth!"

He shakes his head, "Don't even try to lie to me, we both know you want to do this the _Saiyan_ way. It's in your blood."

She waves her hand, "Whatever. I don't wanna do this right now. Shoo! I'll talk to you later."

He groans before walking away back to Bulma and their two children loading into their sky car, throwing a simple wave over his shoulder.

Yamcha looks down at her, "You'll explain all of that to me eventually, right?"

She nods, grabbing his hand, "Yeah. I will. Can we go home?" He smiles down at her and they take off in flight towards West City.

* * *

They fly in companionable silence before arriving back at his house. Yamcha tosses his wallet and keys on the table near the door, and Rhuby does the same. She can feel his eyes watching her as she moves to sit on the couch, the couch they have spend so many days and nights sitting on...cuddling on...talking on. "Sit with me?" He nods and moves to sit beside her.

She sighs, "He wanted you to ask. He knew I wouldn't lie about it, and he knew I would hate him for telling you himself. He's... a crafty asshole."

He places a hand on her shoulder, "Hey, if you don't wanna tell me, it's fine... I can wait."

"No...You deserve an out. I've lied to you this whole time. I owe it to you to be up front about it now."

"An out? Rhuby, I don't want an out, I-"

"Let me finish?" She asks, spinning on the couch so she is facing him, and he seems hesitant, but nods. "When Saiyans spend a lot of time around someone they have feelings for, it starts a process called bonding. There are a couple of actions that cement the bonding...that make it permanent. And the thing about Saiyan bonding is that once it is permanent, that's it. There is only one. Bonded for life." Yamcha starts to open his mouth, but she waves her hand, "You aren't a Saiyan, so you don't have anything like that. The process doesn't affect you. Just me..."

Yamcha stares at her for a minute, "So you are... _bonding_ to me? Because of how close we are?" She nods, "And Vegeta knows it? How?"

She shrugs, "Probably my tail... There are tail flicks and motions that only happen when bonding. We can't really control them. It's like a lie detector about our feelings. There are no games to be played in the world of Saiyan mating."

Yamcha swallows hard, not taking his eyes from hers, "So, if we go _further_ tonight...what happens?"

She smiles softly, "Then that's it for me. _You're_ it for me."

He furrows his brow, scooting closer to her, "And you wanted to do it anyway? Why?"

She laughs and shakes her head, "Isn't it obvious? I love you. I've never loved anyone like this before, and I wanted it... Even if it's just temporary for you. Even if you end up breaking my heart later, it was worth it...to feel it at least once." She feels tears on her cheeks and internally chides herself for her weakness, "I know I'll never find someone like you again."

Rhuby can see all the thoughts and emotions whirring behind his eyes, and she is waiting for him to say something. Anything. Then suddenly he puts his hand out. "Hold that thought. I'll be right back." And he stands up from the couch, disappearing down the hall. _What the hell?_

She hears him moving around, the sound of drawers opening and things being moved, so she just stares blankly at the sounds, and then he finally returns, looking nervous as he takes a kneeling position on the floor in front of her, and she is _really_ confused, "Yamcha, what are you-?"

"Now it's my turn to talk, alright?" He interrupts her, grabbing her left hand in his right and smiling up at her teary face and windblown hair, "I told you I was a bandit in the desert when I was a teenager. Well, I wasn't exactly great at it. I didn't usually steal much of _real_ value. But one thing I did get was this..." He holds up his other hand, and in between his thumb and forefinger he has a ring, a simple gold band and small emerald on the top. "I didn't pawn this, because when I stole it, I remember thinking that this was gonna be the ring I gave to the girl I was gonna marry." Rhuby feels her mouth open and a fresh new wave of tears on her cheeks and Yamcha continues to smile softly. "This is it for me too, Rhuby. _You're_ it for me too, and I don't know how else to prove it to you other than the human way... Marry me?"

"Are...are you serious?" She stammers. And he laughs,

"Yeah. I love you, and these past three months we have spent as best friends have been the best of my life, and I want it for the _rest_ of my life. Even if it means making _Vegeta_ my brother-in-law." She laughs and he rubs his thumb across the fingers of her left hand. "So, whaddaya say to becoming Yamcha's girl forever?"

She half laughs, half sobs as she pulls him in for a kiss. For a moment, they forget about everything except their lips interlocked and their tongues moving together. But then he pulls away enough to whisper, "Is that a yes?"

"Yes. Yamcha. I'll marry you." She says and he pulls away with the brightest smile she has ever seen and he takes her left hand, sliding the ring onto her finger. It's a little big, but they can fix that. He then cups her face in his hands and thumbs away her tears.

"Now we can wait and have our first time on our wedding night so you _know_ I am just as committed and-"

"No." She responds, pouncing on him, straddling his hips and pinning him to the ground in front of the couch. "I trust you. The promise is enough."

"Are you sure? I can wait, I-" His words are betrayed by the feeling of his calloused hands sliding up her thighs on either side of him.

She leans over him, so her face is inches from his and her hair is falling around them, "Yamcha. My _fiance._ Shut up and _fuck me._ "

His eyes snap closed as he groans and she feels his hips buck up into her, his erection grinding against her core through their clothes. She moans at the feeling. Sitting up and reaching up to snap the hairband holding her hair before pulling her shirt over her head.

As Yamcha's hungry eyes fall on her stomach and switch from lust to concern and his right hand leaves her thigh to trace her abdomen, she remembers the other reason she doesn't get naked. His fingers carefully trace the edges of the round scar just below her ribs and above her belly button, the spot where Raditz ran his energy wrapped fist through her, expecting her to block it. "It's the blow that _killed_ me." She expects questions. Or sympathy, but instead she sees him softly smile before lifting off the ground enough to pull his own shirt over his head, and her eyes fall to a similar circle in the center of his torso.

She traces the harsh edges as he speaks, "An android put his arm right through me. I almost died." She runs her fingers across the other smaller scars littering his torso and arms. _So many battles. So many fights._ "I also have a huge burn scar on my back from a Saibaman that self destructed...that one _did_ kill me." She narrows her eyes and he laughs, "My friends wished me back. It's sort of a long story. I can tell you all about it later." He runs his hands back up her waist, his thumbs finding smaller scars and giving them the same reverent treatment. "You are the first girl who hasn't looked a little bit disgusted...or afraid...or just ignored them completely."

"Scars mean you fought. Scars mean you survived..." She responds, tracing the cross on his cheek as his eyes drift closed.

"You get it...you always get it." He nuzzles into her hand. "And I love you for it."

She smirks down at him, before grinding into his hard cock, "Saiyan women find battle scars very attractive, you know." He lets out a strangled moan in response, his hands returning to her thighs as he sits up, leaning in for a heated kiss as he grabs her knees to lift them up so her legs wrap around his waist. Her fingers are in his hair and clawing at his back as the kiss intensifies, and his hands are suddenly on her ass as he expertly stands up with her wrapped around him, carrying her down the hallway and into the bedroom. He closes the door by slamming her against it, and she moans into his mouth.

He pulls away slightly, "If you want me to stop, you have to tell me right now."

"Yamcha, I never want you to stop." She replies and then he emits what was basically a growl and moves to toss her on the bed. He reaches behind her to unhook her bra with one movement, and then leans back up to look down at her with a lustful gaze as he drags his hands across her perky breasts. She arches up into his touch and he smirks. She starts to sit up, but a firm hand on her upper chest pushes her back to the bed.

She looks at him incredulously before he begins to kiss his way down her body. Lingering on each nipple as his hands work to unclasp and unzip her shorts. He slides them and her panties down her legs as he continues his descent. Pausing to make eye contact with her before going lower and she looks at him curiously, "Yamcha, what are you doing?"

"Do Saiyans not do this?" He asks pulling her legs up onto his shoulders,

"Do what?" She asks, and Yamcha just grins wickedly before he dives down, flattening his tongue and licking up her folds. "Oh _fuck!_ " She screams and Yamcha feels her thighs tighten almost painfully against his head and her heels dig into his back as he flicks his tongue against her clit. _Oh well. There are worse ways to die._

She had been with her fair share of aliens for a quick fuck, but none of them ever did _this._ She didn't even know this was _possible._ She feels his tongue flicking against her most sensitive spots, and probing inside her and then she feels two fingers slide inside her. Gently thrusting in and out before slowly picking up speed to match his ministrations on her clit with his _extremely_ agile tongue. "Yamcha! Fucking hell!" She half moans, half screams and she feels his lips upturn into a smirk against her pussy and she can see the smile in his eyes as she looks down at his beautiful face between her legs. She suddenly makes the realization that he is doing this all for _her_ pleasure. Something about that bothers her, and she gets an idea.

Yamcha is so focused on the sweet taste of her, the sound of her moans, and the pressure of her thighs against his ears that he doesn't even register the feeling of her tail worming its way under the elastic of his waistband until it wraps around his cock with a quick pump. " _Oh sweet fuck!_ " He mumbles into her wet vagina, and she continues to pump him, and as strange as it is, the soft texture of her tail against his skin feels _incredible._ He pulls back a little to speak, moving his thumb to continue the work his tongue is abandoning, "I sorta forgot you could control your tail." He feels the tip of her tail flick across the head and and he hisses a moan.

"Is it weird?" She asks through her panting. He can hear in her voice and the way she is tightening around his fingers that she is close.

"A little. But only because I am not used to it... But I really like it." She speeds up a bit and tightens her grip just slightly and he gasps, "If you keep it up, I won't last." Then he gets an idea, returning his mouth to her. Emboldened by her intensifying moans, he decides to test just how far the similarities go, and then bends his finger so they brush the front wall of her and it must translate, because her tail stills around his dick and she screams, her hands coming to grip painfully in his hair. He works through the pain, feeling her tightening and knowing she is close. The fear of what could happen when she comes crosses his mind, but only briefly, as he pushes her over the edge by sucking on the little bundle of nerves. She screams his name, and he loves the sound of it, surprised he can even hear her from how tightly her thighs are holding his head. He wonders if she actually pulled his hair out as her aftershocks pulse around his fingers, but when he looks up and sees her blissful expression, he decides it doesn't matter. It's worth it. He slides his fingers out of her, licking them clean, his eyes never leaving hers as she continues to look at him with love and lust. He groans as her tail begins to pump him again.

He stands up beside the bed, and she reluctantly lets him go as he slides his pants down, finally showing her his naked form. _Damn, he is beautiful._ The defined muscles and the V that accentuates his erect penis, currently leaking precum. He leans over to his nightstand, pulling out a foil packet, "You sure you still want this?" He asks, looking at her gorgeous naked form on his bed and desperately hoping she doesn't ask him to stop here. He would if she asked. But he _really_ doesn't want to.

"Yamcha _please."_ She moans and he rips the packet open with his teeth, languidly stroking himself a few times before rolling the condom onto himself. She scoots back a bit on the bed, and he crawls over her, kissing her. Touching her. After several moments of heated kissing and his cock grinding against her thigh, she puts her hand on his chest and pushes him back, and for a moment, he is scared he did something wrong, "Yamcha...if you don't hurry up and fuck me, I am going to flip us over and do it myself."

He chuckles, pressing one more kiss to her lips before leaning back on his heels, lining his cock up with her entrance before harshly grabbing her hips and pulling her onto him. He groans as her tight heat stretches around him and he hears her cry out his name. He slowly pulls out before snapping his hips to fill her again, fast and hard. Starting a brutal pace of pulling almost all the way out before slamming in as hard as he can. He would never be this rough with anyone else. Only her, and her wanton echoes of his name and nondescript noises only encourages him that he was right.

Her screams get louder and he feels her get close, but suddenly, she is pushing him back, and before he can question, she is pushing him back onto the bed and crawling on top of him. Sinking onto him in one swift move. He grabs her hips as she raises up to sink back down on him, _hard._ She braces herself with her hands on his chest as she rides him. He is bucking his hips to meet her thrust for thrust, and he is _close._

Afraid of coming first, he moves his thumb to her clit and starts moving it in quick harsh circles, and after a few moments, she cries out his name and he feels her contracting and squeezing him, and it is just so _intense._ And he groans her name as he follows her over the edge of what might me one of the best orgasms of his life.

She falls over, laying on his chest, but not removing herself from him. He runs a hand through her hair. "That was amazing. _You_ are amazing. I love you, Rhuby."

She looks up at him with a smile, "I love you, Yamcha." She finally rolls off of him, allowing him to stand up and remove the condom, tying it off and tossing it to the trashcan in the corner. When he turns back around, she is sitting up, staring at him. "No regrets?"

He smiles as he walks back to the bed, grabbing her hand so he can pull her to her feet before he pulls back the sheets. "None...except maybe that we didn't do this sooner." He smirks as he crawls under the sheets, pulling her in beside him. She nestles into his body, resting her head in the dip of his chest and shoulder as he runs his fingers through her hair. "What about you?"

"The same. I loved you for months, I was just so scared."

"I liked being with you too much to risk ruining what we had." He mutters as she moves her leg over him, and runs her hand across his chest. He looks at his ring on her finger and then kisses her head. "Doesn't matter. I have you now...You're mine, and I'm yours. Forever now, right?"

"Mmhmm." She hums, "Good thing the sex is good."

Yamcha laughs, "Really good... and it will only get better as I learn what you like."

She kisses his chest, "This is where all your slutty days come in handy?"

"Yup...but now I am just a slut for you."

She laughs and he pulls her tighter to him as her body shakes, "I've never come more than once with someone before."

"Really? And you've never had oral before?"

"Nope. I mean, in the past I just had random partners who were sorta hot. And we just _fucked._ You're the most _Saiyan-like_ person I've ever been with."

"It's weird to think about you fucking _aliens_ before me..."

"You realize you just fucked an alien, right?"

"I guess you are right." He sighs before laughing, "If you learn to be patient, we can push that number even further than two... I am more than happy to go down on you for _hours._ And I'll last longer next time. This was the first time I have had sex in six months."

She groans, "Shush. You are making me want to keep you up all night but we have to go to sleep. You have practice early tomorrow."

"Oh damn, I forgot about that." He reaches over with his other hand to turn his alarm on and flicks the lamp off. "Hey Rhuby?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I tell people we are engaged?"

"Of course, Yamcha." She hugs him and nuzzles into his arm, "Whatever you want...As far as I am concerned we are married."

"You don't want a wedding?"

She shakes her head, "I guess I am neutral. I love an excuse to drink, but I don't need it."

"I'd like one... WIth my friends...with you in a pretty dress."

"Then we'll do it." She tilts her head to look at him, "Do I have to plan it?"

He laughs, "I think you can just show Bulma your ring and she will be begging to do it all for us. She lives for that kinda shit."

"Perfect. Everyone wins."

"Especially me. I get the girl of my dreams, a wedding I don't have to plan, and the opportunity to annoy the hell outta Vegeta, and know he can't seriously hurt me for it."

"You may be seriously overestimating his love for me."

"No. The guy absolutely despises me, but he still gave me tips on how to make you happy. He did that for you."

"He may not _kill_ you out of respect for me, but I can't keep him from beating the shit outta you."

"Yeah yeah, what else is new."

* * *

NOTES:: Fin! Let me know what you think! I may write some one shots to go with it if I get inspired to write one of the fragments of scenes I have for these two floating in my head. If you like it and want some more, let me know.


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